Maysilee's Dare
by Uriah Abernathy
Summary: Two unlikely friends. Four tributes reaped for the Games. One lone victor. Set in the Second Quarter Quell.


"Would you rather... eat a live worm or kiss Haymitch Abernathy?"

Margaret Donner's face contorted in surprise and disgust. "Are you crazy, Iris? Haymitch Abernathy?! I think the worm would taste better!"

"I think he's kinda cute," Iris Wheaton said, a blushing smile crossing her face.

"He's so weird!" Margaret argued. "He never talks to anyone, and he never smiles! Not ever!"

"Maybe no one's given him anything to smile about," Iris suggested. "What do you think, Maysilee?"

Margaret and Iris turned on the third member of their party - Margaret's twin sister, Maysilee. Maysilee blushed. "I don't know. I agree with you both. He is really cute, but he seems pretty grumpy."

"Like I said... I've never seen him talking with anyone unless he has to," Iris said. "Maybe he needs a friend."

"Yeah!" Margaret snorted. "Who's gonna be his friend? You, Iris?"

Iris blushed. "Well..."

"I didn't think so," Margaret said. "I dare you to go up and talk to Haymitch. See if he really is just lonely like you seem to think."

"No!" Iris cried. "What do I know? I'm just a merchant's daughter! He's a Seam boy!"

Margaret looked quite self satisfied. "Fine. Then I guess 'poor Haymitch' will just have to be alone forever."

"I'll take the dare," Maysilee interjected quietly.

Both Margaret and Iris whirled to look at her. "What?" the other girls chorused at the same time.

"I'll go talk to Haymitch," Maysilee said, putting her chin up in the air.

"No you won't," Margaret said, convinced her sister was only putting them on for show. "You're too afraid of him."

"Am not, Maggie! Just watch!" With that, Maysilee picked up her lunch tray and strode across the lunch room to where Haymitch Abernathy sat, all alone, eating his lunch.

Iris and Margaret watched, wide-eyed, as Maysilee plunked her tray down right beside Haymitch's and started talking to him. He looked a little irritated, and seemed to give short answers, but Maysilee stayed where she was until the teacher called for everyone to come back to class.

"She's got guts," Iris whispered to Maggie as they got in line. "No one else in uppers is brave enough to sit by Haymitch Abernathy. No matter how cute he is."

Though she hadn't known it when she'd taken the dare, by the end of lunch, Maysilee Donner had learned that there was something more to Haymitch Abernathy than met the eye. Though he hadn't spoken five words to her during lunch, she found herself determined to get to know him. The following day at lunch, she sat beside him again, and she did the same all through the next week.  
Finally, one day, as she sat her tray down beside Haymitch's, he turned to look at her. Maysilee found herself caught up in his dark gray eyes, which were surprisingly bright and a little bit frightening. A single, dark curl fell over his forehead, evidence that his hair needed a trimming.

"Why are you doing this?"

Maysilee didn't really have a good answer formed in her head. She'd been thinking about it all through the past week, afraid that he might ask. Though she had come up with many answers that she might give, none of them were really a suitable reason for her to sit by him for an entire week. So the answer that came out of her mouth was as new to Maysilee as it was to Haymitch. "Because I like you."

The answer caught Haymitch off guard. Something in the way Maysilee said it made him think that she didn't mean it like all the other girls who had tried to flirt with him in the past. And he'd spent his fair share of time on the other side of the slag heap with one of the Seam girls, or even a merchant's daughter. No one quite so pretty as Maggie or Maysilee Donner, though. But Maysilee's happy, friendly tone didn't imply kissing on the slag heap. Her tone implied friendship, of which Haymitch usually wasn't a big participator. Somehow, though, the thought of being Maysilee's friend didn't disgust him, so he simply turned back to his lunch and let her chatter on like she had for the past week.

* * *

That evening, Maysilee was in the Square, sweeping off the store front of her father's shop. Suddenly, as she backed up to sweep the dust off the side of the walk, she bumped into something solid. She turned around and found Haymitch standing behind her. Maysilee flushed bright red. "Sorry, Haymitch. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's all right," he said.

"So what brings you to town?" Maysilee asked.

"My brother's birthday is tomorrow," Haymitch said. "I wanted to get him some sweets. As a present."

"Oh," Maysilee said. "Well, we have those."

"I know," Haymitch said. "That's why I'm here."

Maysilee blushed again and propped her broom up against the side of the sweet shop. As she led Haymitch inside, she caught a glimpse of Iris Wheaton watching with wide eyes from the window of her father's shop next door.

"What would you like, Haymitch?" Maysilee asked, bringing forth a selection of shoelaces.

"Whatever is good and cheap," Haymitch replied.

Maysilee barely hid her grin. Haymitch was so matter of fact, and so stoic all the time, that it was rather funny when he said something like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "These are my favorite," Maysilee said, motioning to a row of peppermint sticks. She and her sister only got sweets on a rare occasion, but Maysilee always picked peppermints.

"Good," Haymitch said, sliding a coin across the counter. Maysilee made the transaction quickly and handed Haymitch two peppermint sticks in a little paper sack.

Just then, a Peacekeeper appeared at the door. He was one of the nicer ones, and his name was Daniel. He popped his head in the door of the shop. "Required viewing," he told Haymitch and Maysilee. "You two had best make it out to the Square to see. It's starting now."  
Maysilee and Haymitch walked out of the shop and turned their attention to the screens. Required viewing this time of year probably meant something Games related.

The sound of the anthem of Panem boomed across the Square, and Maysilee knew it would be echoing through every television screen in the district. In all the districts, actually. On the huge, outdoor screens, there appeared a picture of President Snow. The president always frightened Maysilee, even when she was just watching from the little television in her home. Here in the Square, he looked larger than life, with his unnaturally smooth skin; full, red lips; snake-like eyes. He wore a black suit with a white rose pinned to it, and he stood behind a podium in the Capitol, surrounded by flags and marble pillars to make his announcement. Following the president onto the stage is a young boy in a white suit, carring a plain wooden box.  
When the anthem is finished, the president spoke. He spoke of the Dark Days and the rebellion. Though every citizen had heard the story many, many times, it was repeated again, intended only to remind and oppress. "Henceforth and forever more, this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games.

"When the laws were laid out for the Games, fifty years ago, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary of the Dark Days would be marked by a Quarter Quell, a special Games with a one time change in their proceedings.

"And thus, on the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

Maysilee winced. The reapings were so terrible anyway. How horrid it must have been twenty-five years ago to be turned over to the Capitol by your own neighbors. To know that you are going to the Games because they chose you, instead of your name being selected at random out of a big, glass bowl.

"And now we honor our second Quarter Quell," the president continued. At this, he turned to the side, and the little boy with the box stepped forward, holding out the box with an open lid. The screen went close into a shot of the tidy rows of envelopes, tinged slightly yellow after these fifty years. The president pulled out an envelope with a large 25 written on the front. He slid his finger under the flap and pulled a small piece of paper from inside. He paused for a breath and then read the card. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district will be required to send twice as many tributes."

Maysilee's breath drew in sharply as the president's voice echoed through the nearly empty square. Twice as many tributes! That meant four poor kids from District 12 - and all the districts - would be sent to almost certain death. District 12 was practically the laughing stock of Panem. They had only had one victor in the last 50 years - Jasper Thornton - and he had won the first Hunger Games. He had been 17 when he won, putting him in his late sixties now. He had been thus unsuccessful in his mentoring efforts, at least, if the lack of victors District 12 had produced was any indication.

"Gosh," Daniel drawled. "That's too bad."

Maysilee looked over at Haymitch. His stony-faced expression hadn't changed, but he seemed very pale in the fading twilight.

"Well, I suppose the Games aren't for another month or so," Daniel went on. "And there are quite a few kids in the District. With any luck, you two'll miss this one and the next and be set for life, eh?" Daniel tipped his hat to Maysilee. "Well, g'night, miss Maysilee. Haymitch."

Maysilee was about to say something to break the awkward silence when Haymitch did it for her.

"I'd best get home before it gets any darker. 'Night Maysilee."

"Good night, Haymitch," Maysilee said quietly, but Haymitch had already started walking. As he disappeared out of the Square, she realized that this was the first time he'd ever said her name. The thought made her smile, and she believed that her efforts these past weeks had not been in vain.

* * *

In the following weeks, Maysilee and Haymitch became very good friends. Maysilee wasn't sure about Haymitch, because even though she had learned a little better how to read his unchanging expressions, but she considered Haymitch more than just her friend. The other girls at school, especially Iris and Maggie, thought Maysilee had befriended Haymitch on a dare. Which she had. But she had long ago forgotten about the dare and turned to getting to know the young man just for the pleasure of his friendship. Though he had a rough exterior, Maysilee was just beginning to see that underneath was a heart of gold.

As the Reaping approached, the district got more and more anxious, remembering the cold truth that two girls and two boys would be leaving for certain death in mere days.

The morning of the Reaping dawned deceptively bright and clear for such a tragic day. By two o'clock the entire district would be assembled in the Square in front of the Justice building, but until then people who were able to sleep did so until late, and those who couldn't manage to keep their eyes shut had a quiet morning with no work to do.

It wasn't even noon when Maysilee went outside to sit on the step. The house seemed to stifle her, and since the shop was closed, there was nothing to do. She sat outside in the breeze, trying not to think of the Reaping and thinking of nothing else.

"Hello Maysilee," said a deep voice from off to the left. It startled Maysilee slightly because she hadn't heard him approach.

"Haymitch," Maysilee said in surprise. "Why are you out here in the Square so early?"

"I had to do some trading at the Hob," he told her. The Hob was District 12's black market. It was technically illegal, but all the peacekeepers traded there, so no one ever got in trouble. Maysilee had heard stories about the place, though. It seemed dark and dangerous. Maysilee wouldn't have stepped foot in it for anything.

"Oh," Maysilee said. "Would you like to sit?"

Maysilee slid over a bit on the step as Haymitch sat beside her. The two sat in comfortable silence for some minutes, as Maysilee wondered if one of them would get reaped today. If so, they would probably never see each other again.

"Did I ever tell you about my bird?" Maysilee asked Haymitch suddenly. Haymitch looked at Maysilee and just shook his head. Maysilee smiled a little and stood up. "Come with me."

Maysilee took Haymitch through the sweet shop and into the back room. There in the corner, locked in a pretty, white metal cage, was a little yellow canary. The little bird hopped a little on the perch inside the cage, tilted it's head to one side, and chirped a few notes for it's company. Haymitch looked transfixed on the bird. Maysilee opened the cage and stuck one finger into the cage. The bird obediently hopped onto her finger and perched there, singing, while Maysilee held it.

"This is my bird," Maysilee told Haymitch. "I call her Sunny, because she reminds me of the sunshine."

"You like birds?" Haymitch asked.

Maysilee nodded. "Oh yes. I just love them. I think it must run in my family," she continued. "Because my aunt loves birds as well. She gave me this pin," Maysilee said, reaching into her pocket with her free hand and pulled out a shiny, bronze brooch with a bird in the center. "It's a mockingjay," she told him. "My aunt gave it to me."

"It's nice," Haymitch said, still watching the bird singing from Maysilee's hand. After a moment, he looked up at Maysilee, and even though she had grown accustomed to it for the most part, the intensity in his gray eyes still startled her for a second. "It's Reaping day," Haymitch said.

"I know," Maysilee said quietly, looking down at Sunny. She let the bird hop back into the cage and shut the door.

"And there are twice as many kids going this year."

Maysilee just nodded.

"And I don't know what's going to happen, but if one of us gets reaped, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. I kind of thought you were annoying that first day. I thought you'd just sat down there on a dare. But I consider you my friend now, Maysilee. And... I really like you."

Maysilee noticed a slight flush on Haymitch's tanned face. It made her smile. "I like you, too, Haymitch," she told him, but she didn't say anything more. A few moments later, Haymitch excused himself, saying he had to get home.

Maysilee sat back down on her step after Haymitch had gone, but she wasn't left alone. Iris Wheaton soon joined her, and the baker's son, Char. They lived on either side of Maysilee, in a house behind their respective shops like all the houses in the the Square. Char fancied Iris, and everyone knew it except for Iris. Iris had eyes for a handsome boy who worked in the mines. He was almost two years ahead of her, and safe from the Reaping, but risked in the mines. He was a poor man from a poor, Seam family, but he was very attractive, and if you heard him sing... well, everyone knew why Iris fancied him.

Still, Char was a nice boy, and he was friends with Iris, Maysilee, and Maggie, on account of their living so close together and their all being in the same year at school. They chatted a little, trying to keep their minds off the Reaping, but of course with the threat of twice as many names being called as usual, they thought of little else. The time dragged on until it was finally time to check in for the Reaping.

* * *

It was just another Reaping day, really. The same officials that had been at every reaping ever since any of the kids could remember. The same zany Capitol escort, Laima Knackle, decked out in vibrant colors and extravagant wigs and hats. This year she was wearing yellow from head to toe. Even her curly wig was dyed a horrible yellow, and her hat had artificial lemons on it. The Mayor of District 12, and the only District 12 victor in history, Jasper Thornton, were seated at center stage with the escort.

Maysilee, Iris, and Margaret kept close together as they checked in and gathered in the roped off area with the other children. They were wide-eyed and silent, but kept hold of each other's hands as they stood in the crowd.

The same film that had always played at Reapings played today. The Capitol escort gave the same bubbly speech as ever. The Reaping balls sat on their respective podiums, as crystalline and ominous as ever. Maysilee stared at the slips of white paper inside the glass bowl. Maysilee Donner was written on six of those slips. Six more contained the name Margaret Donner, and yet another six contained the name Iris Wheaton. Maysilee prayed so hard that it wouldn't be Maggie or Iris. They were her two closest friends in the entire world. Maysilee hated seeing anyone go, but the thought that one - or even both, considering that there were two female tributes this year - of them might have to enter the Arena to face certain death... it was too much.

And of course the boys' bowl. Char's name was in there at least seven times, and Maysilee couldn't even guess how many times Haymitch's name was in there. She knew his family took tesserae in exchange for an extra number of slips in the reaping bowl, and since his brother was only ten, all the extra slips would have Haymitch's name on them.

Before Maysilee knew it, Laima was saying 'Ladies first!' and crossing to the girls' Reaping ball. She dug her hand into the pile of paper and scrounged around a bit for a name. Then she crossed back to the microphone. "Rose Bushman!"

The crowd all turned at once to face the unfortunate girl. She was from the Seam, Maysilee could tell just by the look of her dark hair and gray eyes. Maysilee didn't recognize her from school, probably because the girl looked about fourteen, and she wouldn't have been in Maysilee's year.

The girl mounted the stage and waited quietly, tears running down her face. Laima pulled another slip from the girls' ball and crossed again to the microphone. "Maysilee Donner!"

Iris and Maggie latched immediately onto Maysilee, for whom the news was still sinking in. It's not Iris or Maggie, Maysilee thought. It's me. She was glad her friends didn't have to go. She was the strongest of them, anyway.

"Come on, dear," Laima said, waving her hand at Maysilee. Maysilee gave a quick hug to Iris and to Maggie, then disengaged herself and bravely strode to the stage, trying her best to contain the fear welling up inside of her. She stood beside the girl named Rose and glanced back to where Iris and Maggie stood, sobbing and holding each other up.

Laima pulls the name of a boy from the Seam next. Maysilee noticed that he was a young one, too. Only twelve, she was pretty sure. The audience didn't like that. They never liked it when first year had their name pulled. His first reaping and he was already headed for the Games. He came up and stood on the other side of Laima as she read out the final name. "Haymitch Abernathy!"  
Maysilee's face paled as she found Haymitch in the crowd. His expression was knit in a firm scowl, but he looked a bit pale as he strode resolutely to the stage and stood with the other boy.

"There you have it!" Laima exclaims. "This year's tributes! Go on, you all. Shake hands."  
Maysilee shook hands first with Rose, and then with the twelve year old, whose name was Jericho, but she didn't make eye contact. But, when she saw a strong, tanned hand stretch hesitantly her way, she couldn't stop herself. She looked up into the bright, gray eyes of her friend, Haymitch. His expression was still dark, probably more for the sake of the camera presence than anything, but his eyes told Maysilee something that only she would be able to see. Something she wasn't quite sure she interpreted correctly.

* * *

After the reaping, they were allotted one hour for goodbyes. Maysilee's parents came to wish her good luck and to cry a bit through hugs and kisses, because with the luck that District 12 had had in the past fifty years with producing Victors from their tributes, Maysilee would most likely not be coming back. After her parents came Maggie and Iris. Another tearful goodbye, and Maysilee made Iris promise to take care of Sunny while she was gone.

"Only until you come back," Iris said, though it was clear that none of them held out much hope that Maysilee was really coming back. It was too despairing. The numbers too overwhelming.

"Don't you let that Haymitch Abernathy get to you," Maggie said fiercely. "I don't care about him. I just want you back."  
Maysilee didn't say anything to that, but hugged her sister tightly and knew in her heart, that if it came down to Haymitch and herself, she could never kill him. Not now.

"I brought a token for you," Iris suddenly remembered. She produced from her pocket the mockingjay pin that the girls had retrieved from the shop after the reaping. "It might bring you some luck."

After the hour was up, the peacekeepers came for Maysilee and, along with the three other tributes; Laima Knackle; and Jasper Thornton, was herded onto the train.

* * *

Maysilee sat quietly in a soft chair on the train as it sped toward the Capitol. She stared at her finger as she trailed it around the seams on the arm of the plush chair. She was thinking about her sister. Her parents. Iris. The fact that she was never going to see them again. Because really, what were her chances? Even in a normal year, she would have had a one in twenty-four chance. The odds were less in her favor being from the coal district, so that brought the chance down. But this year her odds were one in forty-eight, not to mention that in order to be crowned victor, one of her dearest friends would have to die. Maysilee couldn't bear to think of it. Besides. She wasn't strong. She wasn't trained for this, like the careers. She wasn't particularly fast, or good at fending for herself. She was the daughter of the man who owned the candy shop in District 12.

"Crying isn't going to boost your shots with the sponsors at all."

Maysilee jumped at the sudden break in the silence. She hadn't realized Haymitch was sitting right there. The other two tributes were off in another car, and Maysilee didn't know where Laima or Jasper were. She looked up at Haymitch and realized that the fabric of the chair she was sitting in was dotted with dark spots. Her tear stains.

"Well, the sponsors aren't here yet," Maysilee said beligerently. She didn't want to be mean to Haymitch, but he seemed to think she was being weak. Though Maysilee didn't really think she'd be the winner, she was still going to try her hardest. "So I figured I could get all my crying in before we get to the Capitol."

"I guess that's a decent strategy."

"What about you? Don't you have any crying to do?"

Haymitch shook his head. "I never cry."

Maysilee rolled her eyes and wiped the tears from her face. "You don't care that you might never see your family again?"

"I miss them, sure. My little brother and my mom."

"Not your father?"

"My father is dead."

"Oh," Maysilee said. "I didn't..."

"He was executed for assaulting a peacekeeper when I was five," Haymitch interrupted quietly. "He was trying to keep them from hurting my brother."

"Why would they hurt your brother?"

"He knocked an apple from a cart in the market. It rolled a ways, and he went to retrieve it, and the peacekeeper thought he was trying to steal it," Haymitch said. "He was only three. But the penalty for stealing is a whipping, and my father tried to stop the peacekeeper, so they shot him."

"I'm sorry," Maysilee told him, for lack of anything better to say.

Haymitch shrugged indifferently. "It was a long time ago."

"I guess so," Maysilee said.

"It's been my job to take care of Peder and my mother ever since I can remember."

"That's a lot for a boy to handle," Maysilee observed.

"That's why I had to man up. Quick."

"Yes, but you can't even go to work in the mines until you're eighteen," she pointed out.

"So? There's lots of ways to make a living aside from the mines."

"Like what?"

"Look at your parents. Of course, a sweet shop in our district can't be too much of a money maker, since no one can afford candy. But the shopkeepers. And then there's the Hob."

"What is the Hob like, anyway?"

"It's a big warehouse. Covered in coal dust. Light a match in that place and the whole square could blow up. But there's mostly a lot of trading going on. It's like the Square, with all the different shops and stuff, except they're all smaller and inside the warehouse. And, of course, it's illegal. Not that the peacekeepers care. They enjoy the Hob as much as the next guy. Where else would they get their soup and their liquor?"

Maysilee was spared from answering, because just then, Jasper reentered the dining car, a glass of brandy in his hand, tailed closely by Rose and Jericho. The smell of the liquor penetrated the air, and Maysilee wondered if he would stay sober enough to coach them at all. No wonder District 12 hadn't had a victor under Jasper's mentorship. That, or the dismal return of Jasper's tributes had driven him to the drink. Either way, it didn't look good for any of the District 12 tributes. This year, or any other year.

* * *

The food on the train was good, and if it was this good while they were in a moving train, Haymitch couldn't imagine what it would be in the Capitol. It was the only decent part of this whole trip, and if Haymitch let himself think about what was coming at the end of the trip, it soured even the taste of this decadent food.

The days kind of melded together for Haymitch. He couldn't have said how many days had passed, because half the nights he never went to bed and the rest of the days he spent every possible minute catching a bit of sleep.

The first night, though, there was the Tribute Parade. Haymitch met his stylist, Wella, a plump woman with unnaturally orange hair and dark green eyes. He immediately disliked her, because he knew what was going to happen. The Tribute Parade required the tributes from each district to be dressed in a costume that reflected their district's industry. The costumes were the same every year. District 12 - Coal. Haymitch was proven right when Wella dressed him in a baggy blue miner's jumpsuit with a glittery black helmet. Maysilee, Rose, and Jericho each wore the exact same outfit.

"Nice costume, huh?" Maysilee asked, holding out a baggy piece of her jumpsuit with dismay.

Haymitch shrugged. "Not really. The same thing is issued at home when you're eighteen and go into the mines. And at least you get paid when you take theirs."

Maysilee gave a little smile. Haymitch was right, of course.

"Come on, children," Wella exclaimed. "Onto the chariot you go."

Wella put Rose on one side of the chariot, and Jericho beside her. Behind them, she put Maysilee and Haymitch, because they were taller.

"Hold on to the edge, children. Wave. Big smiles!"

So Haymitch left his permanant frown in place.

* * *

Training takes place for the next few days. Haymitch and Maysilee both tried to learn as much as they could while they were there. Finally, the night before the Games were to start, were the tribute interviews. Maysilee was dressed in a pretty blue gown that matched her eyes, and her hair was all done up in curls and pins on top of her head. Haymitch just wore a black suit with a red shirt and shiny black shoes.

"You look pretty, Maysilee," she heard Haymitch whisper as they took their places in line to head onto stage.

She glanced back at him with a smile. "Thank you. Compliments to your stylist as well. This is better than the whole jumpsuit and glittery helmet thing."

"I think anything's better than that," Haymitch shot back. Maysilee started to laugh then, and had to turn forward and put her hand over her mouth to hide it.

Being from District Twelve, they had to wait through all the other district interviews before theirs came. Rose went first, then Maysilee. When it was her turn, Maysilee stood and went over to Caesar Flickerman, the man who had hosted the interviews ever since she could remember.

"Maysilee Donner," Caesar exclaimed. "How pretty you look tonight! Doesn't she folks?" he asked, turning to the audience. They answered with a round of hoots and applause. "So tell me, Maysilee, who do you have back home rooting for you?"

"Well, my parents," Maysilee said. "And my twin sister. And my best friend."

"No boyfriend? A pretty girl like you must have a boyfriend."

Maysilee resisted the urge to glance at Haymitch. "Well, there is one boy."

"Ahhhhhh," Caesar said, his grin growing. "Will you tell us the lucky fellow's name?"

Maysilee shook her head shyly.

"All right, we won't press you. Tell me, Maysilee, do you have a strategy for the Games?"

"Win?"

The crowd roared with laughter. Maysilee smiled shyly. This was working. Jasper had told her to play up the innocent thing, so that in the arena, everyone would be surprised when she came out fighting.

"That's a good strategy!" Caesar exclaimed with a laugh. "Anything else you want to say before your time is up, Miss Maysilee?"

"I want to tell my parents that I love them. And my sister Maggie and my best friend Iris that I hope I'll see you real soon." Maysilee swallowed hard against the lump that suddenly formed in her throat and blinked against the tears forming in her eyes. She pressed her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss at the camera, sending her love home to District 12. Then the signal that her time was up came, and she returned to her seat. Jericho went next, and Haymitch went last. Maysilee contained her emotions just in time to listen to Haymitch's interview.

"Haymitch Abernathy," Caesar said. "What do you think of the Games having one hundred perfect more competitors than usual?"

Haymitch shrugged. "I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

The audience burst out laughing, and Haymitch gave something that was almost a smile. Not a real smile, but a staged one. Maysilee knew that Haymitch hated these people. He hadn't smiled since the Reaping.

Caesar tries to coax a little more out of Haymitch, but his three minutes quickly burn away and every snarky answer Haymitch gives only sends the audience deeper into laughter. Finally, the signal goes off and the anthem of Panem plays, cuing the end of the program.

* * *

The next morning, Haymitch was raised into the arena. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when he caught a glimpse of the arena. The cornucopia sits in the middle of a green meadow, dotted with beautiful flowers. The sky above is as blue as you could ever hope to see, embellished with tiny white clouds that look like they are made of the softest material in the world. Songbirds in bright colors fly overhead and the air smells so wonderful that Haymitch couldn't help but take a deep breath. In the distance Haymitch could see a white capped mountain, and a patch of woods in another direction. Seeing the mountain, he decided immediately to head the other way. He had his own secret strategy for the arena, and he wasn't going to make it that way.

The gong sounded and most of the tributes stood on their platforms in a daze. Not Haymitch. He darted as fast as he could to the Cornucopia and filled a backpack with choice supplies. Then he selected a few weapons and got out of there just as fast as he'd come. He was practically in the woods before any of the other tributes had even stepped off their plates.

Maysilee, however, was not so smart. Distracted by the beauty of the place, it wasn't until she saw Haymitch running away from the Cornucopia that she remembered where she was. She headed for the Cornucopia, but several of the Career tributes got there first. She narrowly avoided being skewered by the District 4 boy's spear, and knew he had better get out of there fast. She managed to snag a small backpack on her way. Dodging other tributes, she barely escapes into the woods with her life.

She kept moving until she heard the first cannon. The bloodbath at the Cornucopia was over. Maysilee counted eighteen cannons. When they had finished, she finally stopped and checked out her backpack. Inside, there was a bowl. She wasn't sure how that was going to help her, unless it was by scooping water, which she could hear flowing nearby. Also, a blowgun, and a pack of 24 darts. If only they were poisoned, Maysilee thought. Then it would be a real weapon. At the bottom of the pack, there was a package of dried beef strips. Maysilee wasn't worried, though. There was ripe fruit practically falling off of every tree. She didn't think she'd be too pressed for food in the magnificently fortunate arena.

Maysilee made her way toward the sound of running water. She found a lovely, crystal clear stream flowing nearby. She caught sight of one of the tributes from District 5 further downstream, scooping water out of the stream with her bare hands and drinking it in. Maysilee was just dipping her bowl into the water when she heard the cannon. Startled, glanced down toward the district 5 tribute and saw her lying facedown in the stream, slowly floating away. She dropped her bowl on the bank of the stream and fell back into a patch of brush. _Someone's here,_ Maysilee thought to herself. She decided she had just better hide until she was safe.

She had barely been hiding for a minute when footsteps approached from the direction of upstream. Maysilee's eyes widened in fear as a boy from District 11 stooped to pick up Maysilee's bowl and drank from it. She barely dared to breathe. He must have been the one who killed the girl downstream. If he found Maysilee, another cannon would sound.

But suddenly, the boy choked and sputtered a few times, then staggered a few steps. He fell to the ground just paces from Maysilee as another cannon sounded.

Maysilee's eyes widened and a realization lighted in her head. Coming out of the bushes, she could see that the boy was unarmed. She remembered he had come from upstream. He couldn't have killed the girl from 5. It's the water, Maysilee realized in horror. The water is poisoned.

* * *

Haymitch learned the same thing very quickly. He also learned, from watching the two girls from District 6, that the fruit was also lethal. Haymitch had a good supply of food in his bag, though, because he had learned from watching the Games not to trust anything pretty that you found in an arena. He didn't trust this place one bit.

Haymitch did learn that the rainwater was safe, after he got so thirsty he just had to find out. He kept moving through the woods at a steady pace, occasionally encountering a tribute and either avoiding them or making a surprise attack. More than one cannon sounded at Haymitch's hand.

Four days in, Haymitch awoke to a horrible noise. The earth quaked and Haymitch saw fire erupt from the picturesque mountain on the other end of the arena. A dozen cannons went off in subsequent minutes. Haymitch had been counting. That left thirteen to play. Haymitch hoped that tonight wouldn't be the night that he saw Maysilee's picture in the sky.

Not far away, Maysilee was hoping the same thing. She had seen Haymitch leave the opposite way, so she didn't figure he'd be near the mountain. She was hoping to find him. Maybe team up for a while. She wanted to say goodbye.

The following day, making her way through the woods, Maysilee happened upon three of the Career tributes. She quickly moved out of sight before they saw her, but just as she was leaving, she heard them getting excited. Maysilee turned back to see the Careers moving in on Haymitch. With lightning fast speed and agility, he dropped two of them to the ground. Maysilee quickly dug her blowgun out of her pack. When she had found out the fruit wasn't to be trusted, either, she had realized that it was perfect for turning her little blowgun into a lethal weapon. She used it now, bringing down the last Career just before he was able to cut Haymitch's throat.  
She stepped out of the trees and looked him in the eye. He still looked on edge. Understandable, because he hadn't known that whatever it was that took out the last Career wasn't going to take him out just as fast. "We'd live longer with two of us," Maysilee said quickly.

"Guess you just proved that," Haymitch said, rubbing his throat where the Career's knife had scratched. "Allies?" he brought his questioning gray eyes to Maysilee's and saw those familiar pools of blue.

Maysilee smiles, though it's not the same smile as before. It's different. It's seen the arena. "Allies."

And they shook on it.

* * *

For the next two days, they share information. They worked out a system to salvage more rainwater overnight, which was the only time that it rained. They fought as a team against the tributes they encountered, and shared the food they found. Haymitch was determined to keep moving, and Maysilee didn't argue. At first.

"Why?" Maysilee asked again. She had asked countless times in the past days, and he had ignored each one.

"Come on, Maysilee," Haymitch said, turning over his shoulder as he kept walking.

"No, Haymitch. Why? Why do we have to keep going this way?"

"Because it's got to end somewhere, right?" Haymitch said. "The arena can't go on forever."

"What do you expect to find?" Maysilee asked. He was right, of course, but who knew what the edge of the arena would be like. For all they knew, it could be worse than the rest of the arena.

"I don't know. But maybe there's something there we can use." Then he started walking again.

* * *

It was mid morning when they finally reached the impossible hedge for the hundredth time. "It's got to be on the other side of this hedge," Haymitch said. "Do you think we could cut it?"

"Here," Maysilee said, digging a blowtorch they had found on one of the dead Careers from her backpack. "Use this."

When Haymitch had burned through the hedge, they saw the edge of the arena. It was dry, flat, bare earth, leading a few yards before dropping off in a sharp cliff. At the bottom of the cliff, all you can see are jagged rocks, probably almost a mile below.

"That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back," Maysilee said. She tugged on his arm, begging him to come back with her.

"No. I'm staying here," he said.

Maysilee's heart sank. He wasn't leaving, and she couldn't stay. So this was goodbye. "All right," she said quietly. "There's only five of us left. May as well say good-bye now, anyway." Look at me, Haymitch. Please look at me. "I don't want it to come down to you and me."

"Okay," Haymitch agreed, but he didn't look at her. Didn't even turn her way. After waiting for a full thirty seconds, she walked away.

* * *

Haymitch didn't look at Maysilee, because he couldn't. He knew there were only five left. He knew only one could win. Even with the way he felt about her, it wasn't in his nature to just give up. He knew that he would never go down without a fight. He could never give himself up so that she could live. It just wasn't in his DNA.

Haymitch knew that if he looked at Maysilee, he would break. He had worked so hard in the arena to keep up this uncaring, arrogant, above-it-all facade. Maysilee knew better. He could see that every time he looked into those bright blue eyes. Lying to the cameras he could do. He could never lie to her. And if he couldn't lie to her, then the cameras would catch it. And he couldn't afford to let that happen. He shouldn't have allied with her. He should have walked away. But he trusted the pretty thing that had found him in the arena. And now it would be ten times harder to say goodbye.

Haymitch skirted along the edge of the cliff, seeing and exploring. There had to be something here that he could use. With one step, his foot dislodged a pebble and he watched it fall into the abyss. He sighed and sat down, staring unseeingly at something.

Suddenly, the pebble bounded back up and landed beside him, at almost the same spot where it had fallen from. Haymitch looked at it, puzzled, then the realization came. Haymitch stood, moved back a few paces and grabbed a large rock that sat near the hedge. He lobbed it over the cliff and waited. Less than a minute later, it flew right back up and Haymitch caught it. He had to laugh.

The scream brought Haymitch to a dead stop. His blood ran cold, because the scream was obviously Maysilee's. There was no doubt in his mind about this. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, not caring if the scream led him straight into a pack of all the other remaining tributes. He had to get to Maysilee.

He broke through the trees into a small clearing. There he found a flock of birds with long legs and long, thin beaks, and feathers the same pink as the candy he had seen often in the window of the sweet shop back home. The candy he had pretended to look at, when really he was just looking for a glimpse of the prettiest girl in the district. Haymitch arrived just in time to see the last of the birds withdraw a long, thin beak, dripping with blood, from Maysilee's neck and follow the others away.

Haymitch stared in horror as Maysilee's gaze locked on him. Her hands went to her throat, and her mouth was open, but no sound was released. Haymitch rushed to her side as she collapsed to the ground. He could tell the wound was irreversible. He could see that she was suffocating, because the bird had poked a hole in her windpipe. She couldn't breathe, and there was nothing Haymitch could do about it.  
He dropped to his knees beside her and racked his brain for anything he could possibly do for her. But there was nothing. Haymitch knew it, and by the look in Maysilee's blue eyes, she knew it, too. Maysilee reached out her hand toward him, and he clasped it tight, wishing that, if he could keep a hold on her hand, then the rest of her life wouldn't slip away from him. But it was slipping. Fast. He knelt there beside her, clutching her hand. Haymitch didn't even notice the single tear that rolled down his left cheek until Maysilee reached with her free hand and wiped it away. The look on her face told him without words. _I thought you never cried._

Blood stained deep purple splotches on Maysilee's blue top. Haymitch could hardly stand to see her try in vain to catch a breath of air. Then Maysilee caught Haymitch's eye, and he saw her mouth the words _I love you, Haymitch_. And then her chest shuddered a few times with breaths she couldn't breathe, and then her eyes glassed over and her body went still.

Haymitch leaned in close and closed those beautiful blue eyes for the last time. "I love you, too, Maysilee Donner," he whispered in her ear, just as the cannon fired. Then he walked away On the outside, he worked hard to maintain the stony exterior he had been so careful to build up. On the inside, he cursed the Capitol, the Games, and wept for everything he had lost. His freedom, his sanity, the only girl he ever loved. And his life could be next.

* * *

Two more cannons fired that day, and Haymitch knew there were only two of them left in the arena. In the last few hours, Haymitch had decided one thing. He was going to make it home. He was going to win, for Maysilee. He was going to show the Capitol that they could shove him in an arena, they could make him kill other kids just like him, and they could even kill the people he loved, but they couldn't take away his fight. He would show them.

It was sunset in the arena when Haymitch ran into the last tribute. It was one of the girls from District 1. She was bigger than him, and just as fast, so even though he tried outrunning her, she caught up to him. The fight was bloody and painful, and it was only the memory of Maysilee's silent, bloody, suffocating death that kept him fighting.

When she caught him in the stomach with her ax, Haymitch could hardly keep his feet. Then, an idea lighted in his head. A weapon that had never been intended for use as a weapon. Haymitch staggered through the woods, practically holding his intestines in so that they didn't fall from his body. He just had to make it to the forcefield.

He had just reached the cliff when he collapsed on the edge. The girl's ax flew over him as he hit the hard packed dirt. For a moment, the girl just stared at him. Haymitch moaned in pain as he lay on the ground, but when he caught the girl's gaze, he cast her a pitying look. Just then, the ax returned, bounced back from the forcefield at the bottom of the cliff, and buried itself in her skull. A cannon sounded, followed immediately by trumpets, and Claudius Templesmith's deep voice announcing that Haymitch Abernathy was the victor of the fiftieth annual Hunger Games. Then the hovercraft appeared just as Haymitch blacked out.

* * *

Haymitch woke from the horrible dream. Only, after a few moments, he knew it wasn't a dream at all. He clenched his jaw and refused to let the tears win. His throat was so dry, but when he tried sitting up, a pain shot through his stomach so hard and so fast that he cried out. Then he remembered the ax. It was probably a miracle that he was still alive. Haymitch didn't think it was a miracle. In fact, he was pretty sure it was his worst nightmare.

After days in recovery, Haymitch was practically as good as new. On the outside. His escort was bubbling with joy over his return, even though she had never liked Haymitch. It was just good to have a job to do after the Games, Haymitch guessed. Based on the escort's age, she had never had this happen to her before. Not as District 12's escort, anyway.

Interviews and photo ops filled Haymitch's time until he went home. He did it all because he had to, and this time, like last, it was absolutely natural to make everyone beneath his notice. There was one piece of the whole after party that almost broke Haymitch. Watching the highlight reel from the arena.

Haymitch's stomach churned as soon as the gong rang. He studied the forty-seven other children in the reel that were not himself. The other forty-seven who were now dead. It changed everything. He saw the girl from District 1 that he had used the forcefield on. He saw the boy from District 4 who Maysilee had saved him from. He saw himself. He saw Maysilee. Whenever Maysilee appeared on the screen, he couldn't tear his eyes away. He hoped he was keeping his emotionless mask in place, but he had no control. He studied her fair features, those blue eyes, wishing there was a way that she would be there when he got home. But she wouldn't be. She was already six feet underground, probably.

There was a strong emphasis on Haymitch's own place in the Games, since he had won, and since he and Maysilee were allies for a while, she was there a lot, too.

The reel dragged on for what seemed like forever. It was everything Haymitch could do to not storm away when they played Maysilee's death in full. They did, however, cut out the parts with the forcefield. Even when Haymitch used it to slay the last tribute, the role of the forcefield was somehow downplayed by the editors. It confused Haymitch. Sure, it wasn't intended for use as a weapon. But it had killed someone. And wasn't that what the Games were all about anyway?

Haymitch finally reached home. He was greeted with the tears of his mother and brother, who were beyond happy to have him back. It didn't last, however. Haymitch had found out from Jasper that the Capitol was angry. Angry, because Haymitch had used the forcefield that they had made to keep everyone in the arena as a way to get out of the arena. Jasper told Haymitch to tread lightly. Not be so sarcastic and angry. He hadn't listened. And he paid for it, barely one week after he stepped off the train.

Haymitch's mother and brother had returned to the little house in the Seam to retrieve some things. Though that was their official dwelling, they had moved in to the house in the Victory Village upon Haymitch's request. While they were at the house in the Seam, the story was circulated that they tried lighting a fire in the fireplace. However, the flue was clogged, and the house filled with smoke. Somehow unable to escape, Haymitch's mother and brother died from lack of oxygen. A sad, tragic, untimely accident.

Haymitch didn't buy it for a second. For weeks, he was haunted by nightmares. All the people he loved, suffocating to death, by everything from smoke and pretty pink birds, to drowning and being buried alive. The Capitol had killed them all. And it was his fault. There was no one left in the world that he loved, or even liked. He was alone.

The loneliness often drove Haymitch to Jasper's house. He was a sorry choice, but as Haymitch's neighbor - and as his mentor - he saw no other viable choice. One day, Jasper actually recognized how poorly Haymitch was holding up. "Here kid," Jasper said, sliding a glass bottle of cheap liquor across the table. It bumped into Haymitch's arm and nearly tipped over, but he caught it mid-tilt and uprighted it before it could slosh out.

Haymitch met Jasper's sunken, dead gray eyes and frightened himself when he saw his own there. He hadn't known. He would soon. He would know the pain and torture of taking two kids to the Games every year, and watching them suffer the same cruel fate that he himself had known. Haymitch's eyes slowly slid down to the bottle in his grip. He had often looked down his nose at Jasper for having the lack of self control it took to stop drinking. But right now... Haymitch only saw the escape the bottle might provide. The escape from the pain of losing his mother. His brother. Maysilee. He couldn't forget, but maybe he could soften the pain. Just a little.

As Haymitch raised the bottle to his lips, he saw the pitying look that Jasper cast him. He knew why. Jasper knew what was in store for Haymitch. The same job that he had spent the last fifty years failing at would be passed to Haymitch. And the change in management wasn't going to have any effect on the outcome.

So Haymitch drank.


End file.
